‘What did she say?’ I asked, dry-mouthed.
‘She was a little bit drunk, bless her.’ Renzo smiled. ‘She said it was the first time she’d been away from her baby for so long, and she talked about him a lot, and his father. And she told me how you help, how you send money all the time to keep your mamma and papa’s little ship afloat.’
Keeping a little ship afloat sounded a lot more wholesome than the reality. Maybe Perdita hadn’t revealed too much about Dad and the chaos he’d reduced our family to. I waited, almost holding my breath, for what he would say next.
‘It made me see you differently again. Made me think of my own sisters, especially the littlest one, Chiara, my favourite sister. What if she had to support my parents, and my older sisters and their kids? What would she have done? Not the same as you, I hope. But if she had, I would have forgiven her. And I forgive you. We can put this all behind us and move on, if you want.’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I want.’ With a surge of relief, I knew it was absolutely true.
His face broke into a dazzling smile. His teeth were perfect, white and even, and there was a deep dimple in his left cheek. The lines of tiredness seemed to smooth away from around his eyes, replaced with creases of laughter.
‘Fragolina,’ he said. ‘You remember that night, when I told you I loved you? I really meant it.’
He couldn’t possibly know just how clearly I remembered it. How I’d turned the memory over in my mind again and again, like a precious trinket that I’d take out of its tissue-paper wrapping and admire, turning it around in my hands until every contour, every colour, even its smell, was familiar, before carefully tucking it away again in its place.
I remembered it again now, but I remembered something new: I hadn’t said I loved him, too. At the time, the only thing I’d been able to tell him was the secret I’d been hiding – and once that had been revealed, it was all over. And I remembered the words he said, the contempt on his face.
I said, ‘Thank you for saying that. I think you did mean it. The problem is, I think you meant the other things you said, too.’
‘Tansy! No, honestly, I—’
I held up my hand to stop him. My fingers were trembling slightly.
‘I think you did. It’s not your fault. Lots of people would feel the way you did – the way you do – about it. Hell, I even do. I’m fucking ashamed of myself, to be honest. And I think that if we were together, that would always be there between us. What I did, and what it makes you feel about me.’
The smile had vanished from his face. He looked shocked, almost angry. ‘But you said you wanted—’
‘To put what happened behind us, and move on,’ I said. ‘And that is what I want. To put it all behind me. You, our relationship, that night – all of it. I don’t think you’re a bad person, I just don’t think we’re right for each other.’
There was hurt in his eyes now, and wounded pride, and they expressed themselves just as I’d expected.
‘You don’t know a good thing when it’s right in your face,’ he spat. ‘I can get another girl tomorrow, you know.’
‘I know you can. And I hope you do. I hope you’ll be happy. But I’ve been single for a long time, and I’m fine with it. I thought I needed a man, but I don’t. If someone comes along, great – but if they don’t, that’s fine too. I need to leave now.’
I really did need to, I thought. If I hesitated for even a minute – if he touched me again – I feared I might weaken. If I stayed there for even another minute, looking into the eyes that had filled my dreams for so many months, I might forget what I’d come here to do, and the absolute rightness of the decision I’d made. So I finished my drink, put my glass carefully back down on the table so it didn’t rattle at all, and I left. But, as the door closed behind me, it felt like it wasn’t just Renzo I was leaving behind. It was a dream I’d cherished for almost a year, which had vanished now, like it had never been there at all. And it was a piece of myself that I realised I didn’t regret turning my back on one bit.
Twenty-Six
At work, the sense of weird unease persisted into the next week. I received three emails from Kuan-Yu asking if the dress samples were okay. The first two I ignored – although I felt bad about it, it hadn’t been me who’d ordered them in the first place, and he’d obviously sent them to me in error. If Barri had ordered them – and I was pretty sure it must have been him – he’d eventually get back to Kuan-Yu, and I’d have to discuss with Chelsea what the impact might be on her and her business – a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to even slightly.
But, for now, Barri wasn’t in the office. He’d been signed off work with a virus, Lisa told us. So, eventually, I replied to Kuan-Yu saying that the dresses were great, but we weren’t ready to place the bulk order just yet, and would he mind bearing with me for another week or so.
Everyone seemed on edge. Felicity dropped a full cup of latte all over her keyboard when her phone rang. Lisa and the other managers spent lots of time in the meeting room with the door closed. Kris bit his nails so badly he had to go and get a full set of acrylics put on.
I heard back from the two companies who’d interviewed me. One was a polite ‘We regret that on this occasion…’ knock-back, and the other was an offer. It was a good offer, too – a few thousand pounds a year more than I earned at Luxeforless, a move from online into bricks-and-mortar retail and the chance to work with kids’ clothes, which would be a new challenge.
But I didn’t accept it. I dithered for a long time, and then replied thanking them very much and asking for a few days to consider. It was a risky move – they might well withdraw the offer, or, if they really liked me, they might come back proposing a higher salary, which would make my decision even harder.
The problem was, until I knew whether Chelsea’s business was viable – until I knew whether a flood of mass-produced, knock-off versions of her designs was going to become available on Luxeforless – I didn’t feel ready to commit to anything. Felicity refused to say anything more about the hints she’d dropped the previous week; every time I tried to quiz her about what was going on, she just pleaded with me to wait a few more days, and see.
‘It’ll all become clear, I promise,’ she said with infuriating vagueness. At last, on Thursday, it did.
‘Guys, could you all please come through to the boardroom.’ Lisa collected a notebook and pen from her desk, and we all followed her obediently to the end of the office. Marketing, Design, Customer Services and Accounts were all in there already, crowded into the available seats, so we squeezed through to the back of the room and stood against the wall, and soon the digital team arrived and joined us.
Everyone was quiet, waiting for Barri to come in and break whatever news he had. Of course, rumours had been flying round the office, each more unlikely than the last. We’d been bought out by Net-a-Porter. Luxeforless was relocating to New York, and we’d all be out of work. Barri himself hadn’t been off ill, but had undergone gender reassignment surgery and would be returning as Bernice.
When the door finally opened, for a second I thought that that last and most improbable theory might be true.
A woman came into the room, closed the door behind her and walked over to the wall-mounted screen, where she stood in silence for a moment.
That was all it took for me to realise that, of course, she wasn’t Barri in a new, feminine incarnation. She was taller than he was, and older – probably in her mid-fifties. Her hair was dark, glossy and bouncy. Her skin was smooth and perfect. She was wearing a slim-cut optic-white trouser suit and pointed taupe stilettos.
‘Holy shit, it’s Catherine Zeta-Jones,’ whispered one of the digital guys.
There was a burst of nervous giggles, and then an absolute hush fell again.
It was impossible to know if the woman had heard him, but her calm half-smile didn’t waver.
‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, glancing around the room. Then her e
yes fell on Kris, who that day was wearing matte violet lipstick and a Pucci kaftan that showed off his long, unshaven legs, teamed with purple Doc Martens. ‘Colleagues and, er, friends,’ she added hastily. ‘My name is Jessica Croft-Gallagher. Thank you for taking the time to be here today; I know you’re all extremely busy.’
Felicity reached over and squeezed my hand. Hers was ice-cold and clammy, but I squeezed back anyway. I couldn’t speak for her, but I felt like a school kid in assembly when the new head teacher has just walked in and is about to say that things are going to be shaken up around here, make no mistake.
‘You may be aware that there have been changes afoot here at Luxeforless,’ Jessica went on, her composure apparently recovered. ‘In a high-growth business such at this, founders are always on the lookout for new opportunities to enhance their existing offering and expand into new areas. It’s been my pleasure and my privilege to be part of the success of many such businesses, enabling their growth through venture capital funding.’
I knew what that was, thanks to Renzo, who’d once spent most of a bottle of Cristal champagne explaining to me the difference between VC – as he’d casually called it – private equity, angel investors, crowdfunding and something called an IPO. I was pretty sure I should know what that stood for, but right now I hadn’t the foggiest.
In spite of myself, my mind wandered back to that night, how thrilled I had felt to be drinking champagne in an exclusive club with a man I was convinced was impossibly out of my league, yet appeared to be as keen on me as I was on him. Now, almost a year later, I knew I’d never see him again. I felt a pang of something almost like regret – not for Renzo, exactly, but for the person I’d been then, so convinced that her life was finally starting out on the path she felt she was destined for. Felicity must have noticed that my mind was wandering, because she elbowed me gently in the ribs, and I focused once again on Jessica, who had flicked a slide up onto the screen, showing a sleek orange and teal logo.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘This isn’t going to be death by PowerPoint. But by way of introduction, I wanted to give you a little insight into who I am and what I’m doing here. I founded Croft Partners fifteen years ago, with the aim of supporting entrepreneurs financially and through my own experience building brands in the fashion industry. I started out looking for businesses that were exciting, inspiring and ready to gear up to the next level.’
She touched the screen of her tablet and the slide changed, showing a range of logos. I was impressed – I’d heard of all of them, and many were household names.
‘So, naturally,’ she went on, smiling, ‘when I came across Luxeforless and learned that Barri, its founder, was seeking investment to help the business grow, I pricked up my ears. The more I learned about this business, the more excited I became about its potential, its disruptive energy and the fantastic, talented team of people working here.’
Everyone in the room was listening carefully, but I could sense them relaxing slightly when they heard her describe us as fantastic and talented. At least that meant we weren’t all about to be sacked. Hopefully, anyway.
‘So, over the past few months, my team and I have been carrying out due diligence, and I was sufficiently impressed with what we found to make the decision to acquire a stake in the business.’
‘Oh my God, it’s like we were on Dragons’ Den and we didn’t even know!’ someone said, and someone else said, ‘Sssh!’
But Jessica laughed. ‘Sadly, the process isn’t nearly as exciting as Dragons’ Den. But I’d like to talk about my vision for Luxeforless, and what Croft Partners envisages the next phase of the company’s growth looking like.’
She flicked through a few more slides, talking about her vision. As she spoke, the atmosphere in the room changed again. There was a new air of excitement – a kind of happy optimism that I hadn’t felt in the office for the longest time.
When she finished, everyone applauded – and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just because there were no more slides to be sat through.
‘Exciting stuff, I hope you’ll all agree,’ Jessica said. ‘However, there is a problem. As I and my team worked through the process of analysing the business, we came across some areas of concern that I simply wasn’t able to overlook.’
I glanced around the room again. Felicity was listening intently, her face guarded and still. One of the customer care women whispered something to her colleague, who shrugged and whispered back. Kris started gnawing on one of his lemon-yellow acrylic nails, then stopped himself and tried to put his hands in his pockets before realising his silk kaftan didn’t have any.
‘Serious issues,’ Jessica went on. ‘From questionable labour practices by some of this organisation’s suppliers, to infringement of what I believe to be certain designers’ intellectual property.’
‘Chelsea!’ I whispered to Felicity, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.
‘But most concerning of all,’ Jessica said, ‘it became apparent to me that this organisation operates at an unacceptably low level of colleague motivation and morale. It has always been a maxim of mine that a Croft Partners business is a happy business. And within these four walls, I did not see a happy business.’
Shit, I thought. She’s changed her mind. She’s not going to invest after all. If this was the news for which Felicity had persuaded me to delay handing in my notice, I wasn’t delaying it any longer. As soon as we were out of there, I was going send an email accepting the job I’d been offered, and pray that they still wanted me.
‘It’s the nature of venture capital investment,’ Jessica said, ‘that founders have to accept a certain slackening of the reins, a sharing of responsibility. Over the years, we’ve worked with many start-up owners to develop a healthy management structure and bring an integrated leadership team on board. However, in this instance, I do not believe that will be possible.’
The silence in the room was total. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Jessica to say, ‘And therefore, I’m out.’
‘And therefore,’ she said, ‘I made our investment conditional upon the CEO of this organisation stepping down.’
All at the same time, everyone gasped. Sally did a discreet fist-pump. Lisa looked like she might be about to faint. One of the marketing women actually burst into tears of relief, and had to be ushered out to the ladies’ by her line manager.
‘I shall be taking over for an interim period,’ Jessica carried on, unruffled, ‘until a new leadership team is in place. And I hope that by the time it is, we will have eradicated the toxic culture that has prevailed here, which I firmly believe came from the very top of the organisation.
‘Now, that’s all from me. We have a delivery of champagne and cake arriving shortly, and I hope you’ll come and say hello, and ask me any questions you may have. If we don’t have the opportunity to talk this afternoon, I’ll be arranging one-to-one chats with each and every one of you over the coming days. And remember, my door is always open.’
She placed a not-so-subtle emphasis on the word ‘my’.
And with that, we all flooded out and a team of caterers flooded in and arranged bottles, glasses, piles of napkins and trays of food on the table. At first, everyone approached the cupcakes and canapés warily, as if Barri might leap out from behind the door and shout, ‘Caught you! Moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips!’
But he didn’t, and Jessica herself picked up a miniature burger and tucked in, wiping ketchup off her chin before it could drip down onto her immaculate white collar.
‘Oh my God,’ I said to Felicity, ‘she’s absolutely awesome. Don’t you just love her?’
‘I should bloody well hope I do,’ Felicity said, her face alight with pride. ‘She’s my mum.’
It was a couple of hours before I left the office, tipsy after several glasses of fizz and stuffed full of food. I hadn’t spoken to Jessica – I’d mostly been making Felicity fill me in on events from her perspective and, naturally, she hadn�
�t wanted to look like a suck-up by joining the small, shifting crowd around her mother.
As Jessica worked the room, Felicity told me that her mum, when she was first considering investing in Luxeforless, had persuaded her to apply for Lucy’s maternity cover, and do a bit of discreet digging into the organisation at the same time.
‘I mean, Barri’s got quite the reputation in the industry,’ she said. ‘Everyone knows he’s not the easiest of people to work with. But this is fashion – it’s full of divas, right? And the competition for jobs is so fierce, people will put up with all kinds of shit. I worked for a designer in Paris for a while who didn’t even pay his stylists – they worked for free, and occasionally they’d get pieces from his collection, except they were all tiny size zeros, so no one could even eat so they’d fit into the clothes. Which was okay, in a way, because no one had any money to buy food even if they’d wanted to.’
She’d explained how, with a bit of persuasion from Jessica, she’d sneaked into Barri’s office after hours and dug through his files, finding evidence that he had authorised the use of factories employing underage workers.
‘And worse,’ she said. ‘You know those faux-fur-trimmed boots Kris ordered? It’s not faux fur at all, it’s real rabbit fur from China. Barri knew about it and ordered them anyway, because the real stuff is cheaper. I found all kinds of dodgy stuff.’
‘And what about the dress designs he copied from Chelsea? Well, pretty much stole from her?’
‘He emailed Kuan-Yu a link to her Instagram page,’ Felicity explained, ‘and basically said, “Make me these.”’ And Kuan-Yu did, obviously. I knew about it, but I couldn’t tell you that the order was going to be cancelled, because that would have meant telling you Mum was buying into the business, and the other investors wanted everything kept absolutely secret until the deal was signed. And it almost wasn’t – Barri didn’t go without a fight.’
It's Not You It's Him: An absolutely hilarious and feel-good romantic comedy Page 30
